A Touch of Crimson
by The Noble Rot
Summary: At 3am, Etta awakens to the ringing of the phone. Her enigmatic lover is parked outside, needing to talk. Needing to rest. Needing clarity and comfort from the one person with whom he can truly be himself. Rated for violence and adult situations in future chapters.


A Touch of Crimson

The phone rang, and she rolled over in bed to squint at the digital clock on the nightstand. 3am. Only one person ever called at 3am. Her hands scrambled for the phone, dropped it, snatched it up again in the dark, and she hit the answer key.

"Gordon?"

"Etta. I hope I'm not waking you."

His voice was exactly the same as she remembered it. Flat affect, giving away nothing of his emotions. He never gave them away, not in the fifteen years she'd known him. Not waking her? Oh, for the love of God. Who sits up all night by the phone? But Etta didn't say that. She clicked on a light and ran a hand through her straight black hair, and slipped on her glasses so she could focus on the face that flickered on her cell phone screen.

"No. No, I was just meditating. Resting my eyes. For…meditating."

"Don't lie to an intelligence officer." He paused, then "Are you alone?"

For a moment, she thought about lying again. It had been three months since the last time he'd called. She didn't want to be the clingy type. He was not a man who seemed to invite clinging. There were bags of peas in her freezer that gave off more warmth. But the truth was, no one else made her feel the way he did. The truth was, she kept her heart shut to any other admirers. The truth was…she wanted to cry right now because he'd finally called.

"You know I am, Gordon."

"I do know. I'm in front of your house."

A thrill ran up her spine, butterflies in her stomach. Etta jumped out of bed and bolted for the bathroom, carrying the phone.

"I look awful! Wait, let me splash some water on my face. Come in, you know the door code. I'll be right there."

"Alright." And the line went dead. Etta's hands shook as she set down the phone and surveyed herself in the mirror. She would be ashamed to be buried looking like this. A little make-up, hastily applied and blended in. A brush through her hair, thank God for the Japanese genes. Her hair always looked the same no matter what she did. A little perfume, some scented lotion, and then a clean pair of her nicest pajamas. Done deal. Not bad for under a minute. She could almost pass for beautiful if the lights stayed low.

Taking the steps as fast as she could, Etta arrived in the kitchen to find Deputy Director Gordon Kern pouring himself a glass of juice in front of her open refrigerator. He looked a lot worse than she'd ever seen him. The deep shadows under his eyes and the pallor of his skin spoke volumes. But he was still perfect to her, and she hesitantly moved forward to touch his shoulder. Who wears a suit and tie at 3am and sits in the dark outside his sometimes-girlfriend's house? Only Gordon. Etta leaned in and kissed his cheek.

"Do you want to change? Your spare clothes are right where you left them. I could make you something to eat."

He didn't respond, draining the glass and setting it carefully in the sink. That haunted look in his eyes was a little unsettling, like a man who's seen something so awful he can't process it yet. Battlefield eyes, her grandfather would have called them. She was about to say more when he abruptly turned around. His hands on her waist were firm as he pulled her against him, and when he kissed her she tasted orange juice and spearmint gum and the seductive, familiar taste of him. The scent of him. Aftershave and warm clean skin. As always, she gave in immediately and wrapped her arms around his neck. It's what he expected, what he wanted. No questions, just this pure yielding. When he finally pulled back, she lowered her head to his shoulder and just breathed.

"Something's happening at work, Et. I can't figure it out yet, but it's bad."

"It would have to be, to make you lose sleep and not eat enough and not return my calls for months." Etta ran her fingers through his hair and kissed him again, softly. "You're a terrible boyfriend. I love you."

"I'm sorry. I was just busy. I told you in the beginning that this wasn't going to be easy, and it's not going to get easier anytime soon." He loosened his tie, then slipped it off and unbuttoned his shirt. Etta helped him slip off the expensive jacket, carrying it to the closet and placing it on a hanger. When she took his hand to lead him upstairs, he stopped her.

"Not yet. We need to talk first. Close the blinds and turn on the radio."

"You're scaring me, what is this all about? Gordon…"

"You should be scared. Pretty sure we should all be scared. Now do it. Please."

When she'd done as he asked, her brow furrowed in confusion and her heart in her mouth, he lead her to the couch and sat down with her. In the lamplight, she could see him better. Right away the red glassiness of his eyes told her everything.

"Oh my God. You said you would stop!"

"Enough. Don't start, or I will walk out that door and you'll never see me again."

Stung, she lapsed into silence and stared down at her hands. Hot tears spilled down her cheeks. There was an awkward silence, and then Gordon drew her gently into his arms and rubbed her back.

"I'm sorry, honey. I just…please don't hassle me right now. Shhhh. Don't cry. I don't mean it, I'm not leaving. Just listen to me."

Etta wiped at her eyes and cuddled in closer, sucking up as much of the rare compassion and tenderness that she could while it lasted. In the entire history of their romantic relationship, she couldn't ever remember a time when he'd called her 'honey'. That was a little frightening right there, and so out of character. He continued.

"There's something at ISEA headquarters that's not terrestrial in nature. You could call it an alien. One of our Astros came back impregnated, and we couldn't figure out how, but then the evidence started piling up, and there was a low grade panic. Very unprofessional. The admins made the choice to sedate our astro and take the fetus from her, surgically. I helped with the cover up. My superiors are keeping the creature under lock and key, keeping it a prisoner. When that thing gets loose, there will be hell to pay. And if I've learned anything over the years, it is that secrets have a way of coming to the surface. This thing…it feels familiar. Somehow."

Etta leaned back, listening to him, the tears drying on her cheeks. He had that look again. The far-away expression. Uncertainly, she took a guess.

"Does all of this mystery and strangeness remind you of your father?" It was a very tender subject.

Gordon's gaze snapped back to her face. Those blue eyes held so much intelligence, and so much hidden pain. Etta put her hands to his chest, easing open a few more buttons so she could draw out the little crucifix on a chain around his neck. She ran her thumb over the tiny Christ who hung in metallic silence from the silver torture device.

"Yes. And I don't think he was crazy."

"Gordon…I trust you. And even though this all sounds really, really strange, I believe you and I support you. I don't know what's going on. I don't need to know. I've never doubted you, and if you say that your father wasn't crazy then he wasn't crazy. But you know that the rest of the world doesn't agree. Especially your mother. She's ashamed of your father. And if she guesses that you're in sympathy with him, she'll be ashamed of you too. She might even try to have you locked up 'for your own good'. You know how she is. And if what you say is true, then your superiors will help her."

He put his head down then, rubbing his temple in annoyance. The beginnings of a headache, she knew. Gently, Etta took his hand and urged him to his feet.

"Take a hot shower. Change clothes. Come to bed. You're not going to solve all this by running yourself into the ground."

"Might not be able to solve it at all. I don't even know what the hell's happening." He grumbled, but allowed her to pull him toward the stairs. They entered the bedroom, and Etta went in and turned on the shower to heat it up for him. As he undressed, she was stunned to see that he'd lost a considerable amount of weight in three months. She passed her hand over his back, worried.

"I wish you would move in. Or let me come and live with you. Why do you have to be so damn solitary? You know I would never ask more of you than you could give. I'm concerned for you."

He didn't answer, and Etta wisely let the subject drop. At least she could offer him comfort now. Food, rest, a little pleasure if he was up for it. God help her, the man she loved was falling apart. He stripped down to nothing, not really looking at her, and stepped into the steam filled room . Etta gathered up his clothes and dumped them into the hydrochute to be cleaned. A few moments later, they slid out in a neatly folded pile. She hung them in the closet and hesitated by the door to the bathroom, listening. The rattle of pills inside as he took a few painkillers. Probably more than a few. She hated that he kept the stuff here. But at least it wasn't Absalom. That vile crap was killing him, right in front of her eyes.

A half hour later they sat at the table together, and Etta watched as he consumed enough leftover beef casserole to feed a modest army. Her heart warmed. Why couldn't it always be like this?

"Hey." She said softly, and he looked over, wiping his mouth on a paper napkin. He seemed better. Much better. "I missed you."

"Missed you too. Just a whole lot happening at work. I didn't have time."

"You're here now. Do you have to work tomorrow?"

"Not that I know of, but I'm always on call. Sparks dials that phone, I answer it. That's what Deputy Director means."

Etta got up to pour him more milk. "I don't like him. He's pushy and there's something fake about him. That party we went to, when you were hired on, I felt like he was judging me. Wondering if I would be some kind of security breach."

"You can't keep letting people get inside your head like that, Et. I highly doubt Director Sparks even remembers your name."

"Your mother certainly does. And she dislikes me too."

Gordon put his hand on her wrist and smiled, just a little. But it calmed her down. Etta had always been jumpy, and his current state made every other insecurity and fear and worry pop up one after another like beans jumping out of a sizzling skillet.

"My mother dislikes _me_ most of the time, so you're in good company. Now relax. This isn't helping. I have a rough road ahead of me and I don't know where it will lead yet. I've been part of some pretty terrible things in my life, but it always made sense before. Now, I don't know." He set his fork down, sitting back, and sighed. "I think you're right. Some rest would help."

"It will be nice to sleep next to you again." She said shyly, and put her hand in his as he got to his feet. Together, they padded barefoot back up the stairs to the warm bedroom, and Etta went to the window. Was it just her paranoia, or was that black car up the street here to monitor them? She couldn't remember if it belonged to her neighbor or not. All the cars up and down the street suddenly seemed suspect, and the little blinking lights in the sky where the air traffic soared past seemed like eyes. Shuddering, she locked the windows and clipped the curtains shut with hair pins to keep the light out. Then she was climbing into bed, and there was the comforting solid shape of Gordon there beside her in the dark. Neither said anything for a little while, holding hands, listening to the muted noise from the radio still playing downstairs.

"Is this job going to kill you?"

"I don't know."

"If someone thinks you're in the way, they'll make you disappear. You should know that. You've made other people disappear in the past. And if that doesn't kill you, the drugs will. I don't want to lose you."

Silence. She turned her face to the pillow, her cheeks wet again. The bed creaked as he rolled against her and then covered her body with his own, heavy and muscular and real and alive. His lips were gentle on her neck. "You won't." He whispered.

There was no more talking after that. Not with words. Only the soft fumbling of clothing under the covers and the intimate communication of touch. But long after their heartbeats slowed again and the sweat had cooled on their bodies, Gordon's deep breathing telling her that he was fast asleep, Etta still lay awake. Staring into the blackness above the bed. The blackness beyond that. The blackness that extended out into forever. And the touch of crimson that hovered on the edge of her thoughts, the warning lights that flashed in her mind and told her that the worst was yet to come.


End file.
